Old Friends
by walutahanga
Summary: Smithy was an old friend of Tommy's from college, but how did Hayley feel about him? Second chapter reposted.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Old Friends

**Rating**: PG-13, mention of underage drinking

**Pairing**: mention of past Hayley/Tommy.

**Summary:** The show says that Smithy was an old friend of Tommy's from college, but how did Hayley feel about him?

--

You'd think, after saving the world, you'd get a break. Hayley had just helped storm an island fortress, destroy a mutant dinosaur, and save the world from transfiguration. Dealing with a post-prom celebration seemed a little much.

But the parents of Reefside were relying on her. Only yesterday, Mr James had stopped her in the supermarket and said he was so grateful that she offered such an establishment.

"…such wonderful thing you're doing, We can count on you to make sure our kids are safe…"

And that was Hayley. Always able to be counted on. Reliable to a fault.

Cyberspace's computers had been packed up and were safely stored in the back room. A stereo system was set up, and balloons and streamers festooned the room, with a big banner saying _'Congratulations Class of 2004!' _It was a hectic night, serving drinks, and making sure that no one sneaked in anything stronger than coke. It was good to see the rangers relax, though. Good to see them acting like ordinary teenagers. Even Trent seemed happier, as he should be. He had his father back, and the creature that had tormented them was dead.

It had been one of Hayley's deepest fears this year, that they'd lose Trent. He was the most fragile, the most disconnected from the group. When he was evil, she'd been terrified that they'd have to kill him. When he'd returned, more subdued, with shadows in his eyes, she was afraid that his guilt would destroy him. And long afterwards, he'd kept a wall between him and the others, refusing to let them get closer. Even Hayley had been unable to breach that invisible barrier.

He was better now. The secrets that had been slowly poisoning him were out in the open. He had forgiven, and been forgiven in return. He had finally been welcomed fully and without reservation into the team.

Him, at least, they had been able to save.

Without warning, tears filled Hayley's eyes. She stood in the middle of a floor of dancing, laughing teenagers, a tray of glasses in her hands, feeling the grief, so ruthlessly repressed this last week, open up inside her like a black hole, threatening to swallow her. _Oh god, not now. _She turned, and went out back into the kitchen. She dumped the tray down beside the sink and began washing glasses frantically. Music throbbed in the background, she allowed the tears to come. They'd been building all week, and she supposed now was as good a time as ever. She sobbed, elbow deep in suds, as she cleaned glasses and stacked them on the rack.

A pair of warm arms wrapped about her waist.

"Hey, there," a familiar voice said, as the arms rocked her gently, soothingly. "Hey, there…"

She crumpled into Tommy's embrace. Her fingers curled into the soft material of his shirt as she sobbed against his chest. There was no need to ask what was wrong. They both knew all too well. Tommy held her as she wept, until she ran out of tears.

"Are you feeling better now?" He asked softly, his voice rumbling in his chest.

She nodded, cheek pressed against his chest.

"It was just… seeing Trent… knowing what could have happened to him…knowing what did happen to Smithy…"

The name tripped over her tongue. She hadn't said that name in months. It was too close, too personal, too hurtful. Zeltrax had been easier.

"Remember college?" She said softly.

The words were magic, transporting them back to a more innocent time. Innocent for her, at least. She suspected that Tommy had lost his innocence before he turned sixteen. There had been the three of them. All undergrads, all alone and a little intimidated by this new world. She and Smithy had drifted natrually into Tommy's orbit. There had just been something about him, something warm and solid and reassuring.

And so it became the three of them. By second year, they were all living in the same house, despite Hayley's mother's dire warnings about men who would expect her to do all the housework. She hadn't been drafted into cleaning, but she had somehow become the mother of the group. She was the one who reminded the others when assessment was due and hinted that one muesli bar didn't constitute a healthy breakfast. Smithy had become the little brother: a little scatter-brained, a little shy, but possessing a sweet smile that could make you forgive him anything.

Tommy had been the leader that held them together, the benevolant protector that watched over them. She suspected now that he had been doing what rangers were programmed to do from the moment the Power touched them: forming a team, making a family. Except there had been no other rangers nearby to bond with, so he'd made do with humans. Hayley hadn't understood that – none of them had, not even Tommy himself – and wouldn't for many more years. All she'd known was that Tommy would be the most supportive friend in the world, then leave at the drop of a hat to meet up with friends from Angel Grove. He wouldn't invite Hayley or Smithy along.

"Oh… you know… we'll talk about stuff you wouldn't get… you'd be really bored…"

And the one time he _had_ invited them, it had been wierd. The friend in question was Jason Scott, and it was clear from the get-go that Tommy considered him nothing less than a brother. The two men had talked for ages. Hayley and Smithy had sat in awkward silence, as names and places and events passed over their uncomprehending heads. It was as if there was a whole world that Tommy had never told them about.

That was when Hayley had begun to understand the hurtful truth. Tommy had held a wall between himself and her and Smithy. Maybe he didn't even realize he was doing it. It didn't matter; the results were the same. He pushed them away.

Sitting there, she had seen the friendly interest in Smithy's eyes turn cold and resentful. He'd barely spoken a word to Jason all during lunch, and was silent all the drive home. Hayley suspected that was the begginning of Smithy's downslide into evil. She would never tell Tommy that, though. There were some truths that you never told friends.

Fortunately, Smithy hadn't turned his attention on Jason. Instead, he'd focused all his considerable talent and energy on seeking Tommy's approval. More, seeking the type of friendship he'd seen that day with Jason. Tommy just hadn't understood. He'd pat Smithy on the back and say "_well done, man_" but he hadn't _understood_. There was always that slight, irrecoverable distance: old scars he never explained, letters from friends he rarely talked about, nightmares that made him cry out in the middle of the night.

Hayley had let her resentment go. She wondered what horrors were in Tommy's past, and was there for him when the nightmares got so bad he couldn't sleep. Maybe someday he'd let her in, but until then, she was content to accept what he could give her. Smithy hadn't reacted nearly as well. Gradually, his hero-worship had turned to resentment. He and Tommy had talked less and less. Tommy had been baffled by the withdrawal and by the banter which now had a cruel double-edge. Slowly the little brother was whittled away to leave this hard-eyed stranger.

After graduation, Smithy left for a job on the West Coast, with some intrigueing new research. He and Hayley had kept in touch a little longer, exchanging emails and a couple of post-cards until he finally dropped off the map altogether. She hadn't seen him again until she saw Zeltrax driving a sword at Tommy's gut.

"I wanted to believe that he could be saved." Tommy said quietly, drawing Hayley back to the present.

His arms were comfortable, wrapped around Hayley's waist. She rested her head on his chest. She was small enough that he could tuck his chin on top of her head. They'd been lovers once, and were comfortable about one another's body in a way that only those who had been intimate could be.

"Me too." She felt acutely her uselessness. All she could do was build more weapons. She couldn't even try to reason with Smithy as Tommy had. If he'd realized it was Hayley repairing Tommy's equipment, she would have become a target too.

She and Tommy stood in silence for a moment longer, then Hayley sighed and gently detached herself from him, stepping back.

"I'd better get out there before they start wondering what we're up to."

She needn't have bothered. The rangers knew something had occurred, if not what. Kira studied her and Dr Oliver with thoughtful eyes, while Conner and Ethan exchanged knowing looks. Trent offered to stay and help clean up, but Hayley ordered him and the others to go have fun.

"This is your prom night," she said. "You only get one. Enjoy it."

She watched the students slowly leave for other parties. Tommy, after only two lectures on responsible drinking (at least he wasn't foolish enough to think he could stop teenagers drinking if they were determined to do it), let the rangers go. When the last students trickled out the door, Hayley began locking up. It took the two of them the better part of two hours to clean Cyberspace. They swept up the streamers scattered across the floor, and the broken balloons. They collected the glasses and stacked them in the dishwasher, unable to be bothered washing them by hand. They mopped up spilt soft drink and vacuumed mushed chips off the couches.

Finally, rolling her neck to ease stiff muscles, Hayley regarded the bare room with satisfaction. She'd get the rangers – she supposed that was _former_ rangers now – to help her set up the computers tomorrow.

"That was a good night," Tommy said, barely containing a yawn. It made her remember that he'd lost his powers recently too.

"It was," she agreed. "You can head home now if you want."

"You sure?"

"Of course. All I have to do is take out the trash and lock up. You get some sleep."

He smiled.

"Thanks, Hayley." He stopped her with two fingers on her elbow. "And Hayley? There really wasn't anything you could have done."

Her smile felt like glass.

"I guess." She patted his arm. "Go on now. Let me close."

She locked the door behind him, and gathered up the garbage bags. She carried them out back. The alley was dimly lit behind Cyberspace. She left the door open as she chucked the plastic bags into the dumpster. She turned around and –

–came face to face with Zeltrax.

She started to scream and the cyborg slapped a hand across her mouth, shoving her up against the side of the dumpster.

"Don't scream!" The warning was delivered in a deep, inhuman tone.

Her heart was pounding in her ears. Despite her tears earlier, Zeltrax being alive was a nightmare. The kind that made you wake up screaming. This wasn't her little brother anymore. This was an insane cyborg with a vendetta that was going to kill her, then go after the rangers. And since they had no powers, he would _slaughter_ them. Even in the midset of her terror, she had time to wonder how he'd discovered her connection to the rangers. She and Tommy had been very careful to conceal it. Rangers – as much as it pained Tommy to say it, and her to hear it – were expendable. Her expertise was not.

Unable to call for help, she kept struggling. She might not be a ranger, but she'd be damned if she'd go out without a fight. He didn't even flinch, just tightened his hold on her.

"Hayley, stop! Hayley, I'm not going to hurt you!"

When he made no move to hit or otherwise harm her, she finally dared to entertain the idea that he might be telling the truth. She slowly stopped struggling. When he saw that she wasn't going to scream, he cautiously took his hand away from her mouth.

"Look."

He unclipped his helmet.

Hayley stood frozen as he pulled his helmet off, revealing his face. She and Tommy had known for months that Zeltrax was Smithy. But somehow the reality didn't set in until she saw the shadow of her old friend amidst the mess of scar tissue. Something about tilt of the lips, the clear blue eyes…

Tears filled her eyes. Her voice was thick when she spoke;

"Smithy."

--

Ten minutes later, Smithy sitting in her kitchen. His cyborg body dwarfed the chair it sat on. His helmet sat on the table next to the fruit bowl.

Hayley put the kettle on, thoughts rattling through her brain. Smithy appeared to be fully fit, while the rangers didn't have any powers. He could be a problem if he decided to make himself one. But so far nothing had gone as Hayley had expected. Was he good? Evil? Still deciding? Why had he come to _her_? And what the hell was she supposed to do now?

"Would you like a biscuit?" She found herself asking.

Smithy blinked. He seemed to be trying to dig up the correct response.

"Um… yes. Yes, please."

His voice was raspy, but otherwise just how she remembered it. She supposed it must have been a filter built into the helmet that made him sound like Darth Vader.

Smithy carefully picked a biscuit out of the open tin she offered. He stared at it for a moment, turning it over between his shining metal fingers. Then he sank his teeth into it, carefully chewing and swallowing. For no reason at all, Hayley thought of a posh dinner they'd attended at uni with one of their lecturers. Smithy had been so nervous about spilling soup down his front. Tommy had had to knot the tie for him back at the flat.

Without warning, tears flooded her eyes. She blinked rapidly as she put the tin away. The kettle boiled and she got mugs down out of the cupboard.

"Do you still take milk?" She asked over her shoulder. Her voice was thick. "Because we're all out, and I've only got green tea."

"Green tea is fine."

She filled the mugs and carried them over to the table. Smithy was watching her, a slightly anxious expression on his face. It was almost comical to see that earnestness atop six feet of armored steel.

"Are you alright?" He asked. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No, no," she assured him. "It's just…this whole thing…it takes a little getting used to."

She sat down and stirred sugar into her tea. The sound of metal on china was very loud. Smithy was looking down at his cup.

"The tea," he said.

"What?"

"Back in college… when one of us was hurt or upset, you'd make us a cup of tea."

Hayley found herself smiling for real. She'd forgotten about that small ritual, even as she was doing it sub-consciously.

"Now it's mostly smoothies for teenagers," she said. "Feel lucky that you're not a teenager anymore."

He stared at her for long enough to make her wonder if she'd made an error. Then he abruptly chuckled. She relaxed at the sound.

"So how did…" She hesitated, trying to form the question. "How did you…how did this happen?"

She waved her hand, indicating the armor, the scarred face: everything. She'd already heard the story from Tommy and Anton both, but was curious to see how much Smithy would tell her.

"There was an accident," he said. "I was hurt. A man helped me. It turned out he didn't have the best of intentions at heart. And that's all you need to know."

Zeltrax crept into his voice for a moment; an unspoken warning not to push it.

"Okay," she said quickly, soothingly. "Okay."

She watched him try and work his cyborg fingers about the mug without breaking it. She had no illusions. Telling him she'd been helping his sworn enemy the past year would shatter his trust in her. She wished now she hadn't left her communicator at Tommy's house. But on the other hand, having five powerless rangers charge in probably wouldn't help the situation any.

"Why have you come here?" She asked, deciding that the direct approach would be best.

Those hauntingly familiar – and yet completely unfamiliar – eyes gazed steadily at her.

"This is why."

He flipped a panel open on his left arm. Hayley suppressed the urge to gag at the smell of something rotting. Where there should have been a smooth transition from flesh to metal, the flesh was curled about the edges of the metal, clearly infected. Smithy held out his arm for inspection as he spoke.

"I took a serum. It was the essence of…I guess you might call it a fountain of youth. It made me incredibly powerful for a while. Then it just seemed to fade. I thought it's effects were over. But then my body started rejecting my cyborg components."

Hayley examined his arm, squeamishness taking a back seat to scientific interest. The 'fountain of youth' he was talking about must be the Tree of Life that Randall had cut down. It had given him a substantial upgrade, at least temporarily, then it had just seemed to go away. At the time, Hayley had wondered if that was all there was to it. The rangers had just been glad they didn't have to go up against Super-Zeltrax every time.

"Is it the same on the rest of your body?" She asked. Smithy nodded. "Hmm."

She could only imagine how painful it must be. If most of his major organs were in the same condition, he must be in agony. In fact, it was a wonder he was still functioning. But the Tree of Life was meant to be beneficial. Why would it suddenly be killing him?

"I'd have to take an x-ray to be sure of what's going on inside…" she said. "But you won't be able to take x-rays with all that metal in the way. Maybe an ultrasound…"

She was absorbed in the fascinating new puzzle that Zeltrax presented. It was perhaps her greatest weakness: being side-tracked by interesting problems. It was how Tommy had lured her to Reefside, with the promise of real live rangers to study and work on. She'd never be able to publish any of the papers she'd written, but it made for fascinating insight.

"My body is healing itself," Zeltrax said. "I figured it out. The serum was never meant for use on cyborgs. It's trying to regrow my missing organs…"

"And in doing so, rejecting the artificial ones keeping you alive," Hayley finished, seeing the direction of his thoughts instantly. "That makes sense. If it was only intended for living tissue, it probably registered the cyborg components as a threat."

"I knew I couldn't face my enemies like this," Zeltrax said. "So I faked my death, and set out to find the one person I could trust. You."

Hayley had a sinking sensation in the bottom of her stomach. Smithy's trusting gaze reminded her of a working dog her father had once owned. It had eaten poison, and was dying. There had been nothing to do except end it's misery. But those big brown eyes, completely trusting right up to the end, had haunted her.

"What do you want me to do?" She asked, filled with dread.

"I want you to remove the cyborg components. You have the expertise. You can do it."

Hayley stared at him, shocked.

"Smithy, it will _kill_ you."

"No, it won't. My body will heal itself. It's already doing it. If we do it gradually, one section at a time, my body will adjust."

His eyes bored into hers.

"I'm dying anyway, Hayley. My body is beginning to fail. I'm in pain, constantly. I need painkillers just to get through the day. This is my only chance."

His conviction reminded her vividly of the rangers. Taking the huge risks, while she watched, heart in mouth. Sometimes forcing her to act against her better judgement, all in the name of the greater good.

And there was that too to consider… _Was_ this the greater good?

Zeltrax was unstable. Even if she could revert him to his human state, he could be as dangerous as any other human being that walked the streets. Only this time, his monstrousity would be concealed behind a handsome face. Perhaps it would be best just to put him out of his misery. It would be easy. He appeared to trust her. All she'd have to do was give him a shot and tell him it was painkiller. It would be peaceful and painless, like falling asleep.

But… but…

The memory of half-knotted ties and cups of tea and shy grins stopped her. Smithy had been her friend once. Tommy hadn't been able to bring him back, but maybe – just maybe – she could. Didn't she at least owe it to that sweet boy she remembered to try?

Smithy was still watching her, waiting for her answer.

"I'll say one thing," she said at last. "Don't think I'm an idiot. I watch the news. I know you've been playing supervillain for the past year."

An ugly expression crossed his face. She forged on determinedly. She was taking a gamble, but it had to be said.

"If I help you, you have to promise me that won't happen anymore."

"You mean you won't help me if I say no?" There was a forebidding undertone to Smithy's voice, and a frightening blankness in his blue eyes.

"For god's sake." For a moment it was like college, being exhasperated at one of his black moods. "Of course I'm going to help you, Smithy. You're my friend. But you owe me this much."

He relaxed, and his lips stretched in an approximation of the old grin she remembered.

"I promise," he said.

She felt the weight of obligation settle about her shoulders again, just hours after it had been lifted. She wondered why she'd ever thought she could escape it. Smithy laid a metallic hand atop hers.

"I knew I could count on you, Hayley."

--


	2. Chapter 2

**Old Friends: Chapter Two**

**Disclaimer**: Power Rangers isn't mine.

**Summary**: Chapter Two. Hayley brings in outside help for her Zeltrax project. Anton is a jerk.

Repost: I suddenly realized that the times indicated by Mercer in the second chapter didn't mesh with the first (Mercer and Susan didn't get together until Prom night). How embarrasing. Anyway, I did some editing, and I think I like this version better. It fits a little more smoothly into the story line.

--

"You wanted to see me?"

Anton looked up from his work. Susan Randall was standing at the door to his office. She was dressed in a neat skirt and blouse, her long dark hair pulled back into a braid. She looked patient, kind, and caring, and exactly the opposite of Elsa.

"Ah, Susan." Anton put the file to one side. "Right on time. Come on in."

"Is there something wrong?" She asked. "You said it was urgent."

"Yes, extremely." He stood and pulled on his jacket. "If we don't leave now, we'll never make the reservations I made at the Coffee Club."

Her smile widened in confusion.

"Sorry?"

"Breakfast," he clarified. "I'm taking you out to breakfast."

She raised an eyebrow, reminding him that though she might have lost her sadism and her sword, she'd lost none of her razor sharp wit.

"Anton Mercer, are you asking me out on a date?"

"A date? Oh, no. Just… breakfast, between two very old, very close friends." He smiled his killer smile. Unable to help herself, she smiled back.

"Don't you want to spend the morning with your son?" She pointed out.

"Right at this moment, Trent is sleeping off his prom night. I'm to meet him at Oliver's house for lunch, but my morning is completely free."

He'd given Trent and his friends the use of the lake house and a monetry limit on how much damage they could inflict. He hadn't checked on them this morning, not wanting to catch his son – or god forbid, one of the others – in bed with someone they probably shouldn't be, or in possession of certain substances they _definitely_ shouldn't be. If he caught them at it, he'd have to put his foot down. But you were only seventeen once, and after the year they'd had Trent and his friends deserved to celebrate their prom night however they chose. Besides. Trent was a level-headed boy. He'd keep the others in check.

"So." Anton offered his arm to Elsa. "Shall we go?"

He told his assistant to field today's calls, and summoned one his drivers to take them to the resteraunt. Some men might take their girlfriends to a diner or a takeaway place. Anton would never be that crass. His female companions always got the best of everything. It was his way of ensuring a smooth transaction between them. After all, if you gave a lot, you received a lot in return.

He wasn't a misogynist. He was upfront from the begginning about his expectations, but not offensive. He was respectful with his companions, selecting them as much for their intellect and their inner strength as for their physical charms. He was generous with those that played within the rules. For those that didn't…well, there'd only been a few of them. And of those, only one serious mistake.

Susan hadn't been a mistake. She wasn't one of his usual companions either, to be eventually discarded. To be honest, he wasn't quite sure what she was to him.

She'd started out as a brilliant genetics professor that had disappeared mysteriously in the middle of their affair. He had been puzzled, and very slightly irritated that he hadn't been the one to end it. It hadn't really occurred to him to be worried about her, just as it hadn't occurred to him to be worried by the disappearance of Mercer Industries resources, or the increasing amount of time lost in black-outs. By the time it had occurred to him to worry, Mesagog was already too far in control, and Anton was powerless to save himself, let alone Susan.

But perhaps that shared trauma had changed something, altered something within Anton himself. He didn't know what he felt for Susan now: he'd hesitate to call it love. Attraction, certainly, and respect, and protectiveness. All powerful emotions. Enough to make him start pursuing her again, which was breaking one of his cardinal rules (never, ever form a relationship with a woman more than once: it leads to expectations).

"So what do you want to talk about?" He asked, once they were settled into their seats, and the waitress had taken their order.

"I don't know." Susan said. "Anything. Everything. Who's president?"

Anton told her and she made a face.

"No way."

"Way." He rather enjoyed the immature banter.

"Well he wouldn't have gotten my vote. Which reminds me. _Did_ I vote? And who fed my cat while I was - ?"

"Evil?" He said helpfully. She slapped his hand playfully.

"Yes. "

"Well, I had someone come round when you first disappeared. Then I think your parents took her."

He realized his error a moment later.

Susan's parents had died in a car crash not long after Elsa showed up. Initially welcoming of their missing daughter, they'd become more and more suspicious, as this woman acted nothing like the daughter they'd raised. Anton suspected, but could never prove, that they'd become too pointed in their observations, and that either Mesagog or one of his goons had arranged the accident. He could only hope it hadn't been Elsa herself. When he'd told Susan, after his rescue, she'd broken down in tears, falling to the ground and pounding on it with her small fists as if begging it to open up and take her too.

Anton seemed to always be the bearer of bad news. He'd been the one, all those years ago, to tell Trent about the cave-in, and then, as now, he'd found himself holding someone as they grieved.

"I wish… " Susan started. "I wish Mum and Dad were still here, even just for a little while, so they could know I'm okay."

Anton laid his hand over hers. Sometimes he'd found it was better to say nothing at all. There were some things for which words weren't adequate. Susan quickly wiped away her tears, summoning up her smile again by mere force of will. It was one of the bravest acts he'd ever seen.

"Speaking of parents," she said. "How are you and Trent?"

"Fine," he said. "Great, actually. We're getting along better than ever. He's starting art school in the fall."

"That's fantastic. And he and Kira – ?"

"He's working his way up to it." Hopefully last night he would have made intentions clear last night, or Kira would have. She didn't seem like the patient type. Honestly, Anton didn't know where Trent got his reticence around women.

"Still?" Susan teased. "And his father being such a ladies' man."

"I am not a ladies' man."

"Oh, yes you are."

A shrill deet-de-deet came from Anton's cellphone. He frowned at the callscreen. Only a few people had his personal number, and even fewer would presume to use it. The name flashing on the small gray screen was Hayley Ziktor. He almost let it go to voice mail, but Ziktor was one of the small inner circle involved with Tommy Oliver, and there was the tiny, almost insignificant chance this might have to do with Mesagog.

"Excuse me," he said to Susan. "This will only take a moment." He answered. "Mercer speaking."

"Mercer." Ziktor's voice was crisp and no-nonsense. "I need to talk to you."

"Can this wait?" He smiled at Susan. "I'm rather preoccupied at the moment."

"It really can't."

"Ziktor, I can't get away right now."

"Listen to me very carefully, Mercer. The two words I'm about to give you will give you an indication of just how urgent the situation is. Killer cyborg."

The sounds of the resteraunt faded into the background.Anton struggled to keep his face blank. There was only person she could be talking about. _Zeltrax_.

"Where are you?" He said. "I'll come meet you right now."

"I'm in the Memorial park, next to the founder statue."

Mercer flipped his phone shut.

"I'm sorry, Susan. I'm going to have to cancel."

She looked concerned.

"Is everything alright?"

"Just fine." For Susan, he managed a reassuring smile. "Just a problem with the Cyberspace paperwork. Small, but urgent if Hayley and I don't want to have to pay a fine."

Susan's baffled smile said she wasn't quite convinced.

"Alright," she said. "Another time then."

"Tomorrow," he promised, kissing her cheek. He paid for their coffees and asked the waitress to call up a cab for Susan. That taken care of, he ordered his driver to take him to the Memorial park.

Ziktor was sitting on a bench. She rose to her feet as the car pulled up. Anton rolled down the window.

"Get in," he said, not bothering with the preliminaries. At this moment, he doubted she was any more concerned with them than he was. She slid into the seat beside him, pulling the door shut behind her. Her red hair was pulled back into a careless twist, her face pale and strained. He couldn't see any bruises or cuts. For whatever reason, Zeltrax appeared to have left her untouched. Luck, or a deliberate choice on Zeltrax's part?

Anton ordered his driver to circle the block, not caring what the man thought, and pressed the button to raise the privacy screen between the front and back of the limousine.

"Are you hurt?" He asked Ziktor.

"No." She laced fingers together but couldn't quite hide their trembling. "All he wanted to do was talk."

Talk. That was a new strategy. Zeltrax had been brutal: a creature of brute force and rage. Mesagog had chosen him specifically for that quality. Where Elsa was the scalpel, Zeltrax was the hammer.

Anton closed his eyes for a moment, and carefully centred himself in the present. The scraps of Mesagog's memories floating about his subconscious surfaced sometimes and they were never pretty.

"Where is Zeltrax now?" He asked.

"At my house. I gave him a painkiller to help him sleep."

Of all the answers, Anton had expected, that was not among them. Ziktor rose higher in his estimation. Plainly, she had a cooller head under pressure than he'd given her credit for, if she'd managed to talk a psychotic cyborg into not only letting her live, but allowing her to administer a sedative. Tommy, for all his faults, had a discerning taste in women.

"Have you told the rangers yet?" He asked. She surprised him by shaking her head. "Good. You did the right thing coming to me." He pulled out his phone. Ziktor sat up a little.

"What are you doing?" She said.

"Calling in some private forces. They'll take care of this little… problem." He began to dial.

"Don't." She grabbed his wrist. The vehemance in her voice startled him.

"Ziktor?" He queried.

"You can't kill him."

"I assure you, Miss Ziktor, that's not so. Your house will probably suffer in the process, but I'll pay for any and all damages incurred." He tried to free himself from her grip, but she was stronger than she looked, and there was a cold gleam in her eyes that he'd only seen on her once or twice before.

"If I wanted him dead, you think I'd come to you?" The words were tinged with scorn. "Tommy has friends who would take care of this _problem_ much more easily and efficiently than you ever could."

An interesting titbit of information, but one to pursue another time.

"Forgive if I've gotten the wrong idea," he said, letting sarcasm tinge his voice as well. "But why wouldn't you want to neutralise what you yourself described as a quote 'killer cyborg' end quote?"

"Zeltrax didn't come looking to hurt me," Ziktor said. "He came to me for _help_."

Their stand-off lasted a little longer, then Anton flipped his phone shut. Ziktor released his wrist.

"Let me start from the begginning," she said. "Smithy came to me last night–"

"Smithy?"

Anton was surprised. Not by the name. He'd known Zeltrax's human identity. But he was surprised that Ziktor would know it.

Ziktor ignored his interruption.

"He says he faked his death. He could be telling the truth." She shrugged, with a sceptical frown that said she didn't believe it. "It's more likely he just took advantage of the situation, letting everyone believe the attack finished him off, when all it did was clip him. Zeltrax wasn't the most strategic of creatures, and Smithy always liked everyone to believe him smarter than he was."

"No. No, he wasn't." Had she known Zeltrax then, back when he was human? Anton believed there you could never know too little, and Ziktor was certainly proving the point. He'd known she was a genius of a level he could only dream of, but he'd assumed her interest in the matter had been purely intellectual, a scientist leaping at the chance to study the closely guarded ranger technologies. If she'd known Zeltrax – and known him well enough to make off-the-cuff insights to his character – she was more deeply involved than Anton had thought.

What else, then, did she know?

"He says he's dying," Ziktor continued. Her words were crisp and calm and precise, outlining a scientific challenge rather than a moral delemnia. "He's telling the truth. I've examined him. His metal components are being rejected by his body. Without surgical intervention, he'll be dead within the month. He wants me to remove the cyborg components."

"That's insane. That will kill him." The cyborg components were the only thing keeping Zeltrax alive. Zeltrax must be even more insane than Anton had thought.

"Not with his body showing superior healing abilities," Ziktor shot back. "The Tree did something to him, hyped up his healing abilities to a supernatural extent. It's why his body is rejecting his organs now." She hesitated. "Anton, he wants to get better. It's why he came to me."

"Yes, that interests me. Why you?"

Her face flooded with colour. Embarrassment, perhaps, or some deeper emotion.

"We went to college together," she said stiffly. "Smithy and Tommy and I. We– we were friends."

"Ah. Interesting."

And indeed it was. Her hesitation hinted that it was more than just some casual acquaintence. They'd been close. Lovers? Doubtful. Anton knew perfectly well that Ziktor and Oliver had been involved during grad school, and Ziktor didn't seem like the type to cheat, nor Oliver the kind to tolerate it. But still. This was a lot of trouble to go to, for a friend you hadn't spoken to in years, and who had routinely tried to take over the world.

"I want to help him," Ziktor continued. "And I need your help to do it, Mercer."

"And why should I?" He pointed out pleasantly. "It would be much neater, and easier, just to end the problem now."

"Because you created the problem," she said, equally pleasant. "And the easiest solution isn't always the right one. And because you owe him."

Her words evoked an uneasy uncertainty in Anton, a sense akin to watching a twisted brown shape on the forest floor and trying to decide if it was a snake or just an oddly shaped branch. How much did Ziktor know?

"He's a killer," he said.

"So were you and Susan and Trent."

"But none of us by our own violition. Trent was controlled by an evil gem, Susan was brainwashed, and I had a mutant dinosaur in my head. But Zeltrax went along with it because he hated Tommy Oliver."

Ziktor looked as if she were about to say something, then changed her mind. Inside Anton, doubts became real suspicions. _How much had Smithy told her?_

"He wants the chance to change," Ziktor said. There was a beat, and she added: "I want to give him that chance."

They were looking at each other, eye to eye. Anton was ruing his dismissal of Ziktor. Both his initial dismissal of her as an ambitionless fool wasting her talents on a coffee shop, and his more recent assumption that she'd only been involved for the technology. She was in this just as deep as Tommy Oliver and his three child soldiers. As deep as Susan, and Trent, and Anton himself. All of them tangled up in a quagmire of love and secrets, jealousy and betrayal. They'd thought they were out. They'd thought they were free.

They'd been wrong. You never escaped the past. You only sank a little deeper.

Right now, Ziktor had a piece of Anton's past, and knowingly or not, she was holding it to his neck. Tommy had chosen his helper and his confidant well. Although, probably not as well as he could have, if she was insisting on trying to save a homicidal cyborg.

"What will we tell Tommy?" Anton asked, only realizing a moment later that he'd agreed to help Ziktor with her idiotic plan.

"That's easy. We won't."

--


End file.
